


there are no snowmen with frowns

by orphan_account



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-01
Updated: 2010-02-01
Packaged: 2017-10-10 21:36:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/104565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Earmuffs, the football team and a snowball fight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	there are no snowmen with frowns

The moment it starts to as much as smell of snow, Kurt unearths the bag that is specifically designed for this season: it contains a long, thick Anna Sui fur coat; his neatly polished, new-looking Mou boots; and - this is especially important because Kurt doesn't particularly want his ears to fall off - [his precious Emilio Pucci earmuffs in lilac](http://cache.net-a-porter.com/images/products/34030/34030_in_l.jpg). He rubs the soft lapin against his nose and smiles.

The winter can come now. He's well-prepared.

What Kurt's not prepared for is the email he gets one afternoon a week later, a mere few days before the holiday break. The football team disassembled a while ago, and it's not like they appreciate anything about Kurt except his kicker abilities. So he's very surprised when he reads what it says. It's from Mike, who doesn't talk very much in Glee club, and who Kurt stays clear of, just in case. He's Matt's friend, after all, and Matt's been known to throw Kurt into garbage containers.

'_Hey Kurt,_' it says. '_If the snow keeps till tomorrow after school, the football team will be having a snow fight on the field. Just wanted to let you know so you come prepared. Mike._'

Kurt blinks at his screen a few times, then shrugs and looks at his earmuffs sadly. He doesn't want to participate in snow battles with the football team (he knows exactly how it's going to end), but the coach might force him to, especially if he wants to keep his position on the team next year. Which he wants, because his dad loves watching him play, and there's little enough he does that makes his dad truly happy. So the earmuffs will have to stay in tomorrow.

Well, at least he got to wear them a few times. And he still has his Armani beanie hat; it looks stylish enough, if he combines it with his Armani clutchbag.

He bites his lip and looks back at the email. He's more worried about his chances for survival, at this point.

~*~

"You came!" is the first thing Mike says when Kurt meets up with the football team on the sidelines. He looks happy, and Kurt can feel his cheeks heat up with pleasure. "I didn't think you'd do it."

Kurt wants to tell him that, if it's not compulsory, he'd really rather maybe not - but then someone bowls him over from behind, making him stumble; he manages to catch himself on his hands before he lands face-first in the snow. There was another storm last night, and there's a fresh layer covering the football field. It goes up to almost reach his knees, and he's glad he decided for the knee-high boots today, because otherwise, his trousers would be completely drenched by now. Then again, he'd have an excuse to go home.

"Hey, man, watch where you're going," someone - Finn's voice - says, and Kurt looks up into Puck's face. Puck's grinning sheepishly, holding out his hand, and without thinking, Kurt takes it. Puck pulls him up to his feet.

Finn's standing beside Mike, glaring daggers at Puck.

"Sorry, sorry," Puck says with a small smirk. "Dude, chill out. It was an accident."

"Your hairstyle's an accident," Kurt mutters, but not loud enough for Puck to hear.

"How come you're here?" Finn asks, smiling at Kurt with that slightly dim, but sweetly accepting expression on his face. "Not that we're not all happy that you're joining in. Aren't we, guys?"

Some of the guys from the team who're scuffling and chatting nearby look over and scoff or roll their eyes. Puck makes a sound that could mean that he's either choking, or trying to hide his laughter. Kurt looks over and wills him to be choking. "I thought it was compulsory," he then tells Finn. "Now that I know it wasn't, maybe I should be taking my leave -"

"No, come on, stay," Finn grins. "It'll be fun, I promise."

Kurt feels himself blush again, this time, because that smile sends his stomach aflutter. "All right," he hears himself say.

When Finn turns to leave to meet up with the other guys - there's about fifteen of them, so not the whole team's here - Kurt makes to follow after him through the snow, just like Puck is, but Mike holds him back by touching his arm. He looks weird, like he doesn't know what to say or rather, how to say what he wants to say.

Kurt tilts his head. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I just. I didn't realize - I should have figured, about Puck. Sorry, I thought he'd stopped being such an asshole, what with Glee and all." Mike gives him a once-over and pushes some snow off Kurt's shoulder. "You didn't get hurt, did you?"

"No, no, I'm fine." Kurt tries to catch Mike's gaze, but Mike isn't looking at his face, eyes latched onto the front of Kurt's jacket. "Um, Mike... I think the guys are starting."

Mike's chin rucks up, confused, but then he turns his head and sees Finn gesturing, and the other guys yelling and laughing, and Puck hitting Finn's shoulder, nodding his head, and says, "Oh. Right. We should join them." He waits a beat, and then he does meet Kurt's eyes. "So, like. Maybe if you stay close to me, I can make sure no one's too rough, um. On you. You know?"

For a second, Kurt feels the same flutter in his stomach like with Finn before, because Mike's looking at him all strange and soft and his eyes are really lovely; but then he realizes what Mike means and squares his shoulders back, narrowing his eyes. "I think I can take care of myself," he says, a little bitchier than he means to.

Mike ducks his head and kicks the snow. "Fine," he says, voice rough. "Suit yourself, then." And he marches past Kurt, not waiting for him to catch up.

When they get to the other guys, Finn splits them up, Mike on Puck's, Kurt on Finn's team, and yells, "Last man standing wins!" and then he's throwing the snowball that he'd been molding at Puck, hitting him square in the face before Puck can duck.

"Oh, you didn't!" Puck hisses and he buries Finn under a avalanche as he swipes arms-full of white powder on top of Finn, supported by three other members of his team.

Kurt tries to sneak away silently to hide behind one of the refrigerator-shaped guys, but then something hits his butt and he has to whirl around, seeing - what's his name again, right, _Brian_ \- bending over with laughter, and Kurt wouldn't be Kurt if he could let this sit, so he scoops up a handful of snow, firms it to a snowball and throws it as hard as he can. Apparently, Brian wasn't expecting that, because when the snowball hits his ear, he stops laughing momentarily and straightens, staring at Kurt in surprise.

Then he comes barrelling at Kurt at high speed.

Kurt's _almost_ sure his high-pitched yelp is drowned out in the laughter and bellowing of his team mates; in any case, it's not like it would be news to anyone that he's slightly femme-ish, so whatever, he tries to care less about who heard him scream like a little girl and more about finding someone to hide behind as Brian tries to tackle him into the snow.

A snowball rushes past his head, and he ducks, avoiding a second one, and he hears someone yell, "Shit, he's fast," which - true. Kurt almost tried out for track once, but then he got a hold of the schedule and realized it would clash with his weekly appointment at the beauty salon downtown, and that was a sacrifice he just wasn't willing to make. Especially not since joining the track squad would also mean spending at least two hours every day sweaty and out of breath.

Still, the compliment doesn't exactly _hurt_.

The snowball to his upper arm does. He swings around and grabs some snow, hurling it at Jacob, who laughs and jumps him without any fear, rolling them both through the snow.

"Oh. My god," Kurt says, when Jacob, after pinning him, stuffs a handful of snow down Kurt's pants. "You did _not_ just put your hand down my pants."

For a moment, all motion close-by freezes. Then Jacob's off him in a shot, and everyone around them who heard that starts cackling and howling and whistling, and Jacob shouts, "Shut up, guys, come on, I didn't -" and when that doesn't help, he chooses the path of less resistance and gets at least three of the laughing guys with snowballs before they realize what's going on.

Kurt stays on his back, feeling the snow in his pants dissolve into icy water. He's sweaty and out of breath _now_, and he figures, it's not so bad. Maybe he should reconsider the track career in spring. If it doesn't clash with his otherwise busy schedule.

The sky's cloudy above him, and his ears are filled with whoops and yelling and laughter, and the sounds of boots crunching through snow, thuds whenever a snowball hits. It smells fresh, the air's pure and full of oxygen. More snow'll be falling soon, the first snowflakes already landing on his face, his nose and on his upper lip.

Then someone plops down beside him, and for a second Kurt thinks it's Finn, his heart beating fast, thudding - but it's Mike who sits down, never mind that his butt will probably freeze off. He's looking at Kurt curiously, like Kurt's a riddle he has to solve, like he's _special_, but not in that bad way that guys normally do when they think he's being super weird. Kurt has no idea what to make of it. He stares back until he has to blink another snowflake out of his eye.

"You givin' up?" Mike finally asks, and there's a half-smile on his face.

"Yeah," Kurt admits. "I figure, running with snow in my underwear's not the greatest feeling in the world."

"You should go home. You don't want to catch a cold."

"I'm fine for a few more minutes."

Mike doesn't reply immediately. When he does, he's lying back, and his shoulder's touching Kurt's, the side of his face propped on his hand as he looks at Kurt. "I'm glad you came," he says finally.

Kurt considers this. "Mh," he nods then. "I had fun for all of - oh. Five minutes."

Mike gives a short laugh. "The question is - was it worth it?"

"I guess so," Kurt laughs back. "Wouldn't be here if it wasn't."

There's a bout of silence in which Kurt inhales deeply, spreads his fingers against the snow, feeling it through his gloves - then Mike moves, sudden, unexpected, and his knees are on both sides of Kurt's hips suddenly, his - he's sitting down on Kurt's thighs, and that's a little bit too close to his groin for Kurt's liking, it's almost like he's trying to rub up and _oh_ -

Mike leans forward, places his hands to Kurt's ears, looking down at him. His eyes drop to Kurt's lips, just a split second, but Kurt sees it and his face burns, his stomach burns, he can feel his pants grow tight -

"- we shouldn't," he mouths. The other guys are _right there_, maybe some of them have noticed already, or - and Kurt's stomach tightens, maybe this is a joke, maybe all of this was a huge elaborate prank to get Kurt in this position, to let him make a complete and utter _fool_ of himself, and his breath comes more quickly from the sudden panic, his heartbeat speeding up -

Mike doesn't let him break free, closes the distance between them, his tongue swiping Kurt's lower lip before his mouth settles on top of Kurt's, a few deaf, thrumming beats of pressure, before he pulls back again and does that half-smile thing again that's so _him_. "I don't care."

Then a snowball hits the side of his face, bowling him over with a groan of pain.

"Get up, faggots," Puck yells at them both, pointing at the mass of bodies strewn across the football field - or rather, the accumulation of five or six players who look like they're trying to suffocate each other by pure body weight. "It's not over yet, I want to see some moves from you. Those fuckers are going _down_!"

Then he takes a long sprint to jump on top of the boypile.

Kurt snorts. "Idiot."

Mike beside him brushes the snow off his face and out of his hair and laughs. "Let's ignore my leader's command and not join the orgy?"

"No," Kurt agrees. "I don't feel like orgy today. More like... hot chocolate, maybe."

Mike's head whips around and he stares at Kurt open-mouthed before he closes it and nods, smiling brightly. "I know a place downtown, if you're okay riding in my car."

"But first - clothing change."

"Yeah, no. Yes, I mean. Definitely. I can drop you off?"

"I got my car, but thanks." Kurt glances at his watch, not sure if he's really doing this, if he's actually planning a date, with a boy, a football player, and oh, his dad is going to kill him. "Pick me up in an hour, maybe?" he says, before he can talk himself out of it.

"Sure," Mike says, hopping up to his feet in a fluid motion, pulling Kurt with him. They give one last look to the sad creatures who're still locked in a fight for who can take the most snow without freezing to death, and then start walking off the field towards the parking lot, and if Mike's hand sometimes brushes his own, Kurt doesn't say a word. He's feeling strangely exuberant, and anticipatory, and whenever he catches Mike staring at him with that strangely appealing look in his eyes, his fingertips tingle.

"You should wear the earmuffs," Mike says when they arrive by Kurt's car, and he holds the door open for Kurt, which makes Kurt's face burn.

"What?" he asks, distracted by the fact that Mike is acting like a gentleman, which is not what he expected _at all_.

"The - you wore them the last few days. They were cool. Bright purple?"

"Lilac," Kurt corrects reflexively and then looks at Mike in surprise. "You liked my earmuffs?"

"Yeah," Mike grins. "I want a pair of those myself, they were dead stylish."

"All right," Kurt says, almost shyly, and he can feel the responding smile start in the corners of his mouth. "I'll bring them, if you insist."

Mike nods, and closes the door behind Kurt carefully, stepping back from the car. And Kurt thinks, well, he can forgive a guy for kissing without asking; after all, it's pretty rare to find a man with good taste these days.

~*~

_~~ written February 2010_


End file.
